


Somebody To Love, Somebody To Lose

by satanic_panic



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Gen, oh god this is awful im so sorry!!!!, pennywise is legit only in it for like one scene dw, this is probably so fuckin ooc im
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:01:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21576463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satanic_panic/pseuds/satanic_panic
Summary: Even after twenty-seven years, some fears remain the same.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Somebody To Love, Somebody To Lose

“When do we have to go back in?” 

“Eleven - don’t worry, we got enough time.” 

You nodded, taking a drag from your cigarette as you stood beside your friend as the two of you spent your break smoking; it was a dull, grey, day, with the clouds threatening to cast their wrath upon the earth in the form of harsh droplets of water that would surely soak through your hoodie and jeans. The smell of your friend’s menthol cigarettes made you wince a little, the strong mint made a sickly feeling of nostalgia wash over you - but you couldn’t quite place why it was nostalgic, you couldn’t quite place why the scent was so familiar yet so forgein to you. You were about to open your mouth to say something to your friend, when you felt your phone going off in your pocket, harshly buzzing until you pulled it out, furrowing your brows at the unknown number and the location: Derry, Maine. 

Hesitantly, you swiped to answer, and shared the concerned look your friend gave you. 

“Hey-o, (y/n) speaking.” 

“Who is it?” Your friend asked, taking another drag off of her sickly cigarette. 

You shrugged, right when the voice at the other end of the phone chimed, “hey, (y/n), it’s Mike. Mike Hanlon.” 

You clicked your tongue, trying to think - the name sounded a bit too familiar, as if you had heard it somewhere before. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” 

“It’s been twenty-seven years,” the five words made the palm of your left hand sting as you let out a wince, letting him continue, “it’s time to come home, to Derry.” 

You could feel something in your throat rising, bile or perhaps phlegm as you swallowed harshly and felt your fingers tremble, before you knew it, you were brought to your knees and letting your friend grab your phone as she did her best to comfort you while you broke. 

You knew. 

Even though it was fuzzy, you knew. 

That clown was back. 

That awful, terrible, clown. 

IT was back. 

IT was back, and you had to go home. 

So, when you came back around and finally stood upright, you looked at your friend, eyes wide with fear as she gave you your phone back, concern and worry evident in her dark oak eyes - she didn’t need to ask, you already knew what question was on her mind. 

“I need you go,” you whispered, almost hardly audible as your voice trembled and broke. 

Your friend frowned, weighing down your shoulder with her gentle hand. “Go? Go where?” 

“Home…” the word didn’t seem to quite reach her ears as you trembled and coughed, doing your best to be coherent as you stuttered, louder this time, the single word that was haunting you: “home.” 

She furrowed her brows as she looked at you, concerned but curious. “Why? Did something happen to your lizard?” 

You shook your head, breathing harsh as you did your best to form sentences; it was as if no words could reach you, so far gone and away that they were halfway across space and time themselves, making you wince and blink back the rain that threatened to come out of your eyes. “N-no, he’s… he’s fine, I… I have to go to Derry, Maine - but could… cou-can you look after him for me, not for long, I promise, I just-” 

“Hey,” your friend squeezed your shoulder, offering up a small, sad, smile as she nodded. “Do what you gotta do, (y/n) - just promise me that you’ll text, or call, or anything, just to let me know you’re okay. Okay?” 

“I promise… thank you.” You sighed, giving her your spare key. 

“It’s what friends are for.” She assured, kissing your cheek and stuffing the key into her pocket. “I’ll look after everything until you’re back - just be sure to take care of yourself, alright?”

* * *

Your home did not seem like home anymore when you got through the front door after bolting down the roads and nearly barging through the door; going up to your lizard’s vivarium, you frowned, opening the glass doors and sighing. 

“I’m sorry, bud,” you said to the small reptile. “But, I gotta go away for a bit… and I really wish I could bring you with me - I really do.” 

The lizard licked its eye in response, looking at you as if it had the opening chords to ‘Wouldn’t It Be Nice’ by the Beach Boys on repeat in its head, no thoughts in its head visible in the slightest, which made you smile as you gently set it back down and quickly dished it up some food, enough for the day, until your friend would go around and replenish its food and water; closing the glass doors, you let out another sigh as you looked at your wardrobe. Something felt wrong in your chest as you frowned; it was like there was something in your heart, something rubbery and swelling with air at every breath you took, every move you made to get going. It didn’t sit quite well, making you uncomfortable, rubbing a hand across your chest in order to prevent it from swelling much bigger, but that didn’t work. If anything, it grew, making you wince a little at the pain before you shook your head and decided it was either now or never. 

Grabbing the two large hiking bags you kept behind your bedroom door, you dumped them on your bed, and grabbed every shirt, hoodie, pair of jeans, and all the other essentials you had, stuffing them into the bags with little thought as to if it would all fit; when you hoisted the two bags onto your shoulders after somehow miraculously getting everything in and closing them, you took one last look over at your lizard’s tank - it was stuck to the glass, seemingly frowning as it watched you inch towards the door. 

You hated it. 

Leaving your companion, your little cold-blooded friend, behind was almost too much to handle as you considered not going to Derry. 

But you knew you had to, there was no choice. 

IT was going to destroy innocent lives, and you knew that if you didn’t go and at least try to help put IT down for good, once and for all, you would never be able to handle all of that guilt, all of that misery and pain that you knew you could have helped to prevent. 

You put the bags down on your bed, opening the glass doors and picking your little friend up again. 

“I know,” you whispered, letting it climb up to your shoulder, tail wrapping around your earphone wire. “I know, mate, I know, but I gotta go - if I don’t, then… I’ll never be able to live with the fact that I could’ve helped but chose not to. I wouldn’t be able to live with the guilt - we both know that. I don’t wanna leave you, you know I don’t, and I know you don’t want me to go, either… but, listen, my mate’s gonna take great care of you - she has snakes of her own, and lizards, so you’re in good hands! Trust me, she’s amazing, you’ll love her. Trust me on this, okay? She’s gonna make sure you’re alright every day, and she’s gonna do everything just the way I do it for you, alright? I’m… I’m gonna miss you, buddy, I really am, and I love you.” 

The lizard once again licked its eye, making you chuckle softly and sadly as you reluctantly put it back ‘home’ for the last time before gathering your bags and heading to your car; you unloaded the heavy and burdensome bags in the boot and ran a hand through your hair before getting into the driver’s seat and putting the key in the ignition. The song that came on the radio made that same strange nostalgia wash over you again. ‘November Rain’ by Guns N’ Roses. You knew the lyrics as if you had heard the song on repeat for the last thousand years, humming along quietly and even daring to sing as you pulled out of your driveway and started down the road. As you hummed and sang, the feeling never washed away, that weird rubbery, swelling, feeling in your chest as if something was blocking it like a red balloon lifted up to the sky to keep the sun out of childish eyes. 

_ “Don't ya think that you need someone? Everybody needs somebody…” _

* * *

While on the road, Mike had texted you an address, and when you pulled over to get some petrol, you looked at it, and frowned upon looking it up; it was a restaurant, which meant that it was not just going to be you and Mike, which made you question whether or not you were going to go, instead of heading straight to town and getting yourself a motel room and calling Mike and telling him you were there, let him know you had arrived and that you were ready to help in any conceivable way possible. But then again, as you paid the man at the tills what you owed for the petrol, you did quite fancy something to drink - something stiff and burning and strong. Grant’s whiskey. On the rocks. 

“That all?” The man at the till asked, clearing his throat. 

You looked at the bottles of alcohol behind him before letting yourself shake your head. “Can I grab a pack of Sterlings?” 

The man nodded, and grabbed the packet of silver-cartoned cigarettes from the sliding cabinet behind him, swiping them on his electronic scanner. “Nine pounds, twenty-four pence, please.” 

You handed him a ten pound note and grabbed the packet. “Keep the change.” 

You rushed to your car, getting in and driving out of the petrol station, following a road you didn’t know you knew, your headlights illuminating the empty streets; they seemed cold and eerie, not a soul in sight, which anyone could have said was odd for a Friday night, it was as if there was something keeping everybody inside, stopping the parties, pausing the music, halting the pouring of drinks and the lighting of cigarettes and joints. You ran a hand through your hair, heart pounding as you drove along, not even listening to the quiet melodies that played over the radio as you opened your cigarette packet at a red light and lit it up before it changed to that horrible Gatsby green; you opened the window, blowing the smoke out and using one hand to turn up the radio - just as Queen’s hit and iconic song ‘Somebody To Love’ started to play. Somehow, you found it in yourself to sing as you drove along, and as the song faded out, you pulled up to the address Mike had told you about. A restaurant, Jade of the Orient. Something about it seemed awfully familiar, as if you had been there before, although you could not recollect when, and as you parked and stepped out of the car, someone waved to you; brown hair and blue eyes, a stutter as he walked over to you and greeted you in surprised but happy disbelief. 

“(Y/N)!” He shouted, almost tripping as he ran over. “(Y/N) (Y/N).” 

You furrowed your brows, looking at him for a moment before grinning. “Bill?” 

Bill nodded, smiling brightly. “Y-yo-you… it’s n-ni- good to see you.” 

You chuckled, stubbing out your cigarette with the heel of your shoe. “You look good, man. I haven’t seen you in-” 

“F-fur-forever,” he said softly, lurching forward and capturing you in a tight hug. “It’s good to see you.” 

You chuckled, breaking away and clearing your throat. “Any sign of Mike?” 

He shook his head. “I went inside, b-bo-but he wasn’t th-th-the-there.”

You nodded, clicking your tongue as you felt a cold and harsh gust of wind wrack through your bones. “Fuck… fancy going inside? Fuckin’ freezing out here, innit?” 

Bill agreed, leading you to the table; it was round and secluded, away from the rest of the restaurant’s tables, a fish tank taking up most of the back wall and fairly cosy lighting; you chose the seat directly opposite Bill, counting the chairs. 

“Wh-what?” Bill mused, looking at you curiously, with an artist’s eye, as if mentally jotting down the little things that gave your own curiosity away. 

You shrugged, leaning back in your seat. “Eight chairs, including yours and mine. Do you think he invited everyone else?” 

“I d-d-dunno…” Bill admitted with a slight frown. But just as he was about to speak again, Mike walked in, making you both stand up before he hugged you both tightly, as if he had been missing you for years.

* * *

You, Bill and Mike spent quite a while chatting, and one by one, the other Losers slowly filtered in, coming to take their seats, and while the conversation flowed like the drinks, there was one thing you could not quite see past: Eddie Kaspbrak. Once upon a time, you had had feelings for him, feelings that no friend should have for another, as they were the type of feelings that tended to make or break relationships; but once upon a time, you had long forgotten them, and now, they were back with a vengeance, making you grin brightly whenever he laughed, drawing your gaze to him when you were chuckling along to whatever stupid joke was told. Bill noticed, of course he did, as did Ben, but when you quietly slipped away to have a cigarette, it was the former that took it upon himself to chase after you; standing out in the cold and dark night, you shakily lit up your cigarette, and closed your eyes tightly, wishing you were back home, wishing you were dreading getting up for work in the morning. 

“Go away, Bill,” you huffed when you saw him approaching. 

Bill furrowed his brows at your snappy response as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. “W-what, am I n-not allowed to get some f-fre-fresh air?” 

You rolled your eyes and let out a sarcastic laugh. “Funny how you chose to do it when I came out to smoke.” 

He bit back his little smile. “I didn-didn’t wanna b-b-be alone.” 

You smirked a little, shaking your head at the reply he had given you. “Dick.” 

“I-idiot,” he bantered back, able to see his breath when he spoke, he smiled. “C-come on, t-tell me w-what-what’s wr-wr-wrong.” 

You shrugged, sighing heavily and with so many burdens that it reminded you of the bags in the boot of your car. “Nothing.” 

Bill frowned, clicking his tongue. “L-liar.” 

You raised a brow. “Says the one who stole my Red Bull and then told me it was Richie.” 

He chuckled softly at the memory. “S-suh-sear-seriously, (y/n).” 

You groaned, slumping your shoulders and rolling your neck, getting it to click. “I am being serious.” 

“Y-yuh-you’re not,” he muttered. “T-tell me.” 

You realised there was no point in continuing to try and bicker with him, Bill was too good at getting people to tell him the truth, you especially. “It’s Eddie, alright? I… there’s some shit I’m feeling that I know I forgot about, but now I’ve seen him, I’m… fuck, I’m feeling it all over again, and I’m a fucking idiot for having these feelings for him - ‘cause why the fuck would he ever give two shits about me? Huh? Why the fuck… shit, I’d fuck everything up if I told him, and you know it.” 

It was a lot to process, your little speech, and Bill kicked around the little pebbles on the asphalt as he thought of how to reply, but eventually, he cleared his throat, and said, “y-yuh-you’re in love with E-Ed-Eddie?” 

You stretched your arms out to the side, bowing slightly. “The fuck do you think?” 

“Oh…” was all Bill could muster, the kind of “oh” with a pause that told you he had clicked on but he had no idea of how to react; it was the kind of reaction that you had no clue how to respond to, as you had thought that he was going to shout and get angry and tell you that, no, you didn’t deserve Eddie, and that you would make irredeemable mistakes and that you were a fool and an idiot for feeling the way you did - so you stood there with him, silent as you finished off your cigarette, clearing your throat and stubbing it out. 

“I’m going back inside,” you said. “You coming?” 

“S-shu-sure,” Bill agreed with a slight shrug. 

As the two of you walked back inside, you could hear Eddie’s laughter, which made you smile a little, but then you looked at Bill, and you frowned; you knew you could trust him, but you needed to hear him say it. 

“Promise not to tell a soul about what we spoke about?”

* * *

The night didn’t end on a positive note - quite the opposite, really - so before heading to the hotel almost everyone else was staying at, you stopped at the local newsagents to buy yourself a bottle of Grant’s whiskey before regrouping; Ben and Beverly had already booked their rooms and headed off, as had Richie and Bill, Mike had gone off home, leaving you and Eddie all alone. It was awkward, neither of you knowing really what to say, settling on a simple exchange before you went to your room and he to his. You were glad, in a sort of funny way, to finally set your bags down somewhere other than the boot of your car, just as you were glad to have a warm shower and get into your softest set of pyjamas. 

However, as much as you tried your best, you could not simply drift off to sleep - something was stopping you, something awful and sitting on your chest to burden you, keeping you up with its unsettling weight. You were unsure of how long it had been when your door creaked open and Eddie walked in, looking dejected and upset as he stood in the doorway wearing his pyjamas. 

“(Y/N)?” 

“Eddie?” You grumbled, sitting upright and rubbing your eyes to try to clear the tiredness from them as you furrowed your brows and cleared your throat. “What’s wrong?” 

He walked in further, gently pushing the door shut behind him and leaning against the Welsh dresser. “There’s something I need to tell you, like, now.” 

Your heart sped up as you swallowed thickly and bit your lip. “What’s up, man?” 

He ran a hand through his hair, making the strands slightly neater than they once were. “Why are you here? I mean, the more I think about it, the more I remember how fucking useless you were and how you didn’t help at all, you just fucking hindered us - you nearly got us all killed, (y/n)! I could’ve died!” 

You sank down in the bed, trying to make yourself seem smaller as you let out a whimper, “Eddie, I… I… I…” 

He scoffed, shaking his head. “I mean, seriously, you can’t even fucking get a sentence out! No wonder all that shit happened to you! No wonder the rest of us can’t stand the sight of you!” 

“Eddie-” 

“No!” His voice was nearly raised, making you flinch and sink down even lower as he growled. “Don’t even fucking try to defend yourself, (y/n), all you do is fuck up! You’ve given me so many asthma attacks that I genuinely don’t fuckng know how I’m still alive! The amount of times I could’ve gotten sick because of you, I can’t even count!” 

You frowned, tears budding and dewing in your eyes. “I’m sorry, Eddie, really, I’m so sorry, I-” 

He shook his head, scoffing and clicking his tongue. “Don’t even bother. We know you’re not… fuck, you really need to learn to shut your mouth and stay out of these kinds of things - you’re so useless! You make everyone sick with worry about you, and then you have the fucking nerve to try to defend yourself because of it?” 

You were tearing at the seams, breaking and falling apart, unable to speak, to move as you thought that he meant every word, that he hated you and loathed you and that you had truly lost him, that he genuinely felt that way about you; you were about to weakly try to protest when he left, slamming the door behind him and leaving you to wallow in your own woe. It tore your heart out, and as you began to finally fall apart, the door opened again - only this time, it was Bill, rushing in after hearing your cries. 

“(Y/N)!” He yelped, rushing to your side and gathering you in his arms, holding you the way a worried soldier would a wounded comrade. “(Y/N) wh-wuh-what’s wrong? W-wh-what happened?” 

You snivelled and whimpered. “Eddie… he hates me, Billy, he hates me so fucking much and I’m-” 

Bill saw it, then, as he dared to glance over at your window - a single red balloon, floating eerie and sluggishly by, and he clenched his jaw, knowing exactly what it meant. “Y-yuh-you’re, you’re oh-okay, (y/n), b-buh-be-believe me… wha-what you s-s-saw wasn’t re-ree-real.” 

Looking up, you frowned and furrowed your brows, not quite getting it. “It wasn’t?” 

Bill shook his head, clearing his throat. “It wuh-was the f-f-fuh-fuckin’ clown.” 

When he asked what you saw, the exact details, you recalled it like a memorised page in a book, every little scathing word and every hurtful look that made you break and tear, and when you finally finished describing it, you sniffled, and let out a final whimper, “please don’t tell anybody, Bill.” 

Upon hearing the commotion from his room down the hall, Eddie burst in moments after, looking worried and concerned about to make a fuss of you and your health when you told him to get out, to walk away, which made Bill give you a concerned look. 

“(Y/N), it’s me!” Eddie protested, not really understanding or knowing what had gone on, what had happened. “It’s me, Eddie, I’m-” 

You thought it was just another one of the hateful clown’s tricks, all of it, as you dared to try and stand your ground and be strong despite the trembling of your hands and the heaviness of your tired and tearful eyes. “You really think I’m that bad, don’t you? Huh? You really think I’m the monster that hides beneath your bed at night, Kaspbrak?” 

Eddie looked to Bill, who was doing his best to get you to realise that, no, this wasn’t all a trick, that was genuinely Eddie stood there, and when Bill eventually got you to calm down, he stepped outside the hall with the other man. 

“What happened?” Eddie asked quietly. 

Bill shrugged, stuttering out a lie about how it was just a nightmare. “Nuh-nothing. It’s it’s d-d-del-dealt with.” 

Eddie furrowed his brows. “(Y/N) said something about me thinking they’re bad, what the fuck was all of that about?” 

Not thinking about what he was saying, and by pure and utter accident, Bill explained what you had seen, what had really happened, and by the time he realised the promise he was breaking, it was too late. “I think (y/n) w-wh-wants to b-be left a-uh-alone, Eddie.” 

Shaking his head, Eddie cleared his throat. “Go to bed, Bill, I’ll look after (y/n).” 

Having no room to argue, Bill reluctantly agreed, and went behind the door next to your room, allowing Eddie to sneak in with you, sitting on the edge of your bed with a look of woeful worry in his eyes; he felt remorse sink his heart when he saw the way you cowered and flinched away from him, when he saw the way your eyes filled with fear. 

“Don’t tell me it’s-” 

“It’s me,” Eddie stated. “I don’t know how I can prove it, but trust me, it’s me. I’m real.” 

Reluctant, you took the risk and relaxed a little, picking at the skin on the tips of your fingers as you quietly spoke, “you don’t have to stick around, y’know, I’ll be fine.” 

He scoffed. “Bullshit! I mean… it’s okay to not be fine… as long as you’re not gonna be sick-” 

“I won’t be sick,” you said, voice void of emotion as you sighed and looked away. “Besides, Bill’s right next door, you’re just down the hall, as is Bev, and Ben, and Richie…” 

Reluctant, Eddie nodded, and kissed the top of your head before he cleared his throat and excused himself from your room, but instead of going back to bed, he opened Bill’s door, finding the Loser sat on the floor, nursing a glass of whiskey from downstairs. 

“What’s going on between you and (y/n)?” Eddie asked, suspicious and perhaps even a little jealous as he narrowed his eyes at his friend. 

Bill gave him an odd look. “No-nuh-nothing?” 

Eddie bit the inside of his lip, frowning. “Oh, really?” 

Bill stood up, squaring up to Eddie despite being a couple of inches shorter. “Re-ruh-really. (Y/N) is, is more f-f-family to me th-the-than anything e-el-else. B-b-b-buh-believe me, I love (y/n), bu-buh-but not like th-the-that.” 

Eddie was about to raise his voice and shout, lose his temper, when you cleared your throat and walked in, having heard the harsh grumbles; you looked awful, eyes red and puffy, snivelling and sniffling with your bottom lip still quivering and the trails of tears still visible on your face even in the low light,, and your hands trembling. 

“Guys? What’s going on?” 

Feeling his shoulders slump and his anger melt slightly, Eddie went over to you, licking his lips as he looked you up and down to be sure you were quite alright as he sighed. “Nothing, it’s fine.” 

Bill scoffed, shaking his head and shooting Eddie a glare before storming out, making you furrow your brows and look at Eddie. 

“Did something happen? Were you… were you and Bill arguing?” 

“Kind of,” he admitted. “And as hard for me to say as it is, I was in the wrong.” 

Eddie admitting he was wrong was not something you would have ever thought possible as you gawked for a moment. “What was it about?” 

Frowning and really wishing he didn’t have to say it, Eddie dropped his gaze to the floor. “You.” 

Confusion washed over you. “Me?” 

Hesitant, he nodded. “Listen, (y/n), I know… fuck, I’m… shit, fuck it, I’m just gonna fucking say it - I’m in love with you, and I fucking thought you and Bill had a thing and I-” 

You stopped him there, grasping his hand and placing it on your chest, right above your heart; you knew you looked awful, but had you said it, Eddie would have told you that you were a work of art, you were a Van Gogh painting. You smiled a little, stained with previous sadness that was dying down, much like the balloon in your chest. “I love you, too… and, to tell you the truth, Kaspbrak, my manifestation? It was… it was you. You, telling me all this horrible shit I don’t never wanna fucking repeat, because… well, because… my biggest fear has always been losing you.” 

“I’m right here,” Eddie said softly, placing his other hand on yours and looking you right in the eyes as he continued, “always fucking have been, always fucking will be… you’ll never lose me.” 


End file.
